


Hank Williams On The Radio

by fightthosefairies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Future slow burrrrn maybeeee?, M/M, Madlads in love, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, Subtext, UST, Vamps, hooking up on a hunt, my apologies to the entire state of Wyoming, not betaed - all fuck-ups are mine all mine!, pre-canon fic, pre-series Lee Webb, so much swearing!, so! much! swearing! lol, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:09:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21701245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightthosefairies/pseuds/fightthosefairies
Summary: After an exhilarating hunt, Dean and his buddy Lee try to figure out what comes next.  One minute to the next is the best they can do.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Lee Webb, Dean Winchester/Lee Webb
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	1. Palomino Eyes

The hunt a few miles outside of Cheyenne had gone off without a hitch. Six vamps in a mobile home park - such as it was. Little more than a couple of battered Airstreams from the 50s and chicken wire bent around some cedar slats jammed into the ground to form a makeshift fence around the place. 

A vamp had ambushed a seniors’ canasta game and turned the lot of them. Damnedest thing.

They drove 45 minutes, to the nearest Gas ‘N Sip, and celebrated their victory with beer, smokes, and some food (Lee caved, but only after Dean had insisted). Lee’s truck was a piece of shit, and Dean had told him that over and over, but Lee wouldn’t hear of it. “Hey, now - you wouldn’t be talkin’ trash about my girl, would you? Aww, honey, he didn’t mean it, I swear,” he crooned, reaching across the dash to give it a loving pat. 

“Your honey has no A/C, no seat belts, a passenger door that’s gonna fall off any second, oh --! And that Phish sticker. Right on top of the rear brake light,” Dean rattled off the list of sins, laughter coloring his words. All things he’d kept telling Lee he could fix for him, once they got where they were going. He was keeping a list, gradually adding to it whenever he noticed a squeak or hiss or anything that seemed off, somehow.

“I’m tellin’ ya, it ain’t mine! Tried to rip the damn thing off - just took the plastic and left the vinyl there. Piece o’shit,” he grumbled, reaching over blindly for the brown paper bag containing their victory feast. 

“Hey, hey, watch the fuckin’ road!” Dean shot back, slapping his hand away. Plucking the bag up, he deposited it into his lap and peered inside. “What’d you want?”

“Smokes,” Lee replied, back arching against the bench seat as he wiggled his fingers into his back pocket, searching for his lighter.

“Holy shi -- LEE!” He barked out in terror as he looked over and caught sight of Lee. With not a single goddamn hand on the wheel of that truck. He reached out, on instinct, hand clamping down on the steering wheel. “Keep your hands on the wheel, man!”

“Holy shit, quit your fussin’,” he said, harrumphing to himself as he returned his hand to the wheel. 

The back of Dean’s hand brushed against Lee’s palm and Dean could feel how warm his friend’s skin was against his own. Fighting back a shiver, he blamed the stray thought on the long hunt - being tired just made you think weird shit, sometimes. 

Once he was sure that Lee wasn’t going to send them flying into a cow or a tree or something, Dean returned his attention to the bag in front of him. He stuck his arm inside, clear up to the elbow, fumbling about for a moment before coming back up with a pack of unfiltered smokes and a boyish grin. “Found ‘em,” he said, and gave them a little waggle. 

Lee, doing his best to behave for the moment, kept his hand steady on the wheel while he glanced over at Dean. He reached for the pack of smokes, but Dean drew them back, just out of his reach.

“Ah-ah…! _First_ , you gotta tell me how much you love me right now,” he teased as he leaned back against the seat, leaning closer to that damn rattling door.

Dean had been the one to pick up the tab for everything back at the quickie mart. He’d made off with a fist-sized roll of cash he’d scored a few days prior pretending to be bad at pool. They could coast for a while on that money; no more worrying about how they were going to cover the basics. Dean had insisted. 

“‘Bout as much as I love the sound my hand makes against your _cheek_ , kid,” Lee growled as he returned his gaze to the road. Dean just sat there and watched him for a moment, and soon enough, Lee glanced over at him again, right eyelid dipping in a wink. “Gimme them smokes, you little shit.”

Dean snickered under his breath, smirking all the while as he ripped the cellophane off the pack and tossed it into the paper bag. “Gimme your lighter,” he said, lightly swatting at Lee’s shoulder, fingers curling at him. 

Lee handed over his lighter and watched as Dean pulled out a smoke and lit it, full, rosy lips wrapped around the tip. He kept his hands curled around the flame, body angled away from the wind buffeting over him through the open (stuck) window. A couple quick puffs to get it going and he held it out to his friend in the driver’s seat.

“Thanks,” Lee murmured, flashing him a small smile as he accepted and took a deep drag of his own. The smoke escaped along with a heavy sigh. “Shiiiit, that hunt was a clusterfuck.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” he chuckled, but it wasn’t a happy sound. More like a grunt than anything else. “And we still got a seven hour drive to get back home.” 

“Fuck you mean, seven hours?” Lee’s eyes slanted over towards him, narrowed.

“While we were gassin’ up and shit. Checked my phone. Got a call from my old man while we were finishing up earlier.”

“And?”

“He wants me back home,” Dean said, left shoulder shrugging up helplessly. “Said there’s a hunt in Vermont. Some water monster or somethin’, I dunno.”

Dean tore into the bag of chips, popping one in his mouth and chewing for a moment before sparing a look at Lee. Right hand curled atop the steering wheel, his brows were furrowed, muscle working in his jaw as he gritted his teeth. 

“What?” Dean asked him, a matching frown settling in place. 

“Huh?” Lee blinked and, just like that, the storm clouds had cleared away. He favored Dean with a puzzled look. 

“I -- wh -- nothin’,” he finally managed. Giving his head a little shake, he scraped his fingers through his hair. Or tried to, anyway. He grimaced as he felt the blood drying in his hair and let his hand flop back into his lap. “Man, I don’t know about you, but I’m fucking exhausted.” 

Lee scoffed and that was all that needed to be said, really. Understatement. “Yeah, drive’s gonna be a red-headed bitch and there ain’t shit for hours. Motels, motor inns? Not a damn thing.” He eased the truck into a long, lazy turn, fingers gliding over the steering wheel as they rattled along past miles and miles of empty, rolling prairie. Nothing but scrub and weeds and horny toads. 

“Shit.”

It was a while longer, before Lee finally spoke up. “We still got a ways to go before we get anywhere near the interstate -- you wanna pull off somewhere and take a breather?” His eyes strayed over to Dean, brows lifting. 

Dean’s own eyebrows lifted in turn and he tipped his head back against the headrest for a moment, considering. “Where could we go?” He asked, the dim lighting in the truck cab making his eyes glitter like gemstones. 

Lee’s lips curled into a slow grin. “I know just the place, my boy.”


	2. Night Prairie Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adrenaline is fading, but there's still something weird going on with Lee.

Dean’s hand shot out to grab hold of the passenger side window frame, white-knuckling it as Lee steered his truck off of the battered asphalt and onto gravel. The dry scrubland made way for rocky outcroppings and the shadow of what looked like mountains were off in the distance. Lee just shot him another self-assured grin as they drove, ultimately pulling the vehicle to a stop when they reached what looked an awful lot like a cliff.    
  
“Wh -- where are we?” Dean asked, favoring him with a befuddled look. 

“This is Wyoming, whole place got mines and quarries. Like swiss cheese, this place,” he replied. He gave Dean’s leg a chummy slap with the back of his hand. “Hop on out. I gotta grab something.”

The two of them piled out and Dean allowed himself a moment for a long, hard stretch. He was young, only just turned 23, but the hunting life was already taking its toll. Feeling a headache building up behind his eyes, he leaned into the cab and grabbed the brown paper bag. “Hey, we still got that bottle of aspirin, man?” He calls, hollering it in the cab so that Lee can hear him.    


“... _whaaat?_ ”    
  
Sighing to himself, Dean straightened up faster than he intended, the back of his head connecting with the edge of the passenger door. “Ah! Son of a bitch!” He snarled as he stepped back and away from the truck, rubbing at the spot. Leave it to him to give himself a concussion  _ after _ the hunt was already over. “Aspirin! We got any left?” 

“Yeah, man! Gimme a sec,” Lee said, the sharp metal-on-metal rasp of a zipper punctuating his words. Soon enough, he was circling around to Dean’s side of the truck, a blanket draped over his left arm and the bottle of aspirin cradled in his right hand. “What the hell? I left you alone for two minutes to get this out the back and you’re doing yourself an injury - the hell happened to you?”

“Bumped my head,” he grumped back, holding out his hand for the bottle.    
  
“Ahh, see, now that’s what you get for talkin’ shit,” Lee said with a sly smirk. Still, even with the teasing, he tossed the blanket over the side of the truck, thick fingers straying up towards Dean’s head.    
  
Lowering his own hand, Dean’s body remained hunched, bent around his pain, but he held still as a doe while Lee got a better look. “Too fuckin’ dark out here,” he grunted, stepping up onto the truck’s running board as he grasped his shoulders. Turned him a bit so he could see better, fingers lightly brushing over the crown of his head and encountering a small bump. He withdrew his hand and examined his fingers in the spare, silvery moonlight. No signs of any fresh blood. “Well. You’re not bleedin’, so that’s something,” he said, palm gently cradling the back of his head, smoothing over his hair for just a second before he hopped down.    
  
“So what’s the verdict, doc? Am I gonna live?” Dean drawled, reaching for the bottle.    
  
“Ahhh, it was jus’ a little bump, don’t be such a damn baby,” he shoved the bottle into his chest, giving him a playful nudge as he grabbed up the blanket and the brown paper bag. “We got some celebratin’ to do. Grab the beer.”

Dean was careful to avoid bumping his head again as he retrieved the two six packs from his side of the cab, nudging the passenger door shut with his knee as he shuffled around to the front of the truck. His eyes went wide in the chill evening as he finally had a moment to take it all in.    
  
It was some kind of mining quarry, but Dean had no idea what the hell you’d even mine for in Wyoming. Silver, maybe? Lee had parked the truck a few hundred yards from the edge of the cliff overlooking the site, and the velvet dark sky was festooned with stars that winked at them. 

“Whoa…” Dean breathed. “This is --”   
  
“Sure is somethin’, ain’t it?” Lee asked, his smile warm as he unfolded the blanket and spread it across the hood of his truck. “Hop on up!” His hand made a muffled thump as it slapped the hood. 

“How’d you even find this place, man?” He did as Lee invited, scrambling up onto the hood and onto the blanket, his back coming to rest against the windshield.    
  
“Ahh, my daddy did a job or two ‘round here. He was clearing out a nest of demons one time and shit got a little hairy,” Lee said, popping the lid off of one beer, handing it off to Dean before opening one for himself. “To a job well done.” 

“Shit yeah!” Dean beamed as he leaned over, clinking the neck of his bottle against Lee’s. There was barely even the sound of stirring air or breeze after that, mostly just the sounds of the two of them gulping their beer.    
  
After downing half of his beer, Dean lowered his own bottle first with a satisfied sigh, smacking his lips as he tugged the brown paper bag closer. He sat up and reached inside, retrieving a plastic-wrapped sandwich. It looked like it had been on loan from another convenience store; the miserable lettuce wilted over layers of unimpressive deli meat. It wasn’t much, but it would hold them until they got closer to town. “Wanna split it?”    
  
“Nah, help yourself, man. I ain’t feelin’ too hungry,” Lee said, waving him off with a small smile.

“Hey, what gives? You’ve been actin’ all weird ever since we finished the job. You okay?” Dean asked, a concerned frown furrowing his brows. “You didn’t get bit or something, did you?”   


“Psssh, naw, man. Me, get bit. How dare you,” he scoffed, but there was no heat or vitriol in his words. He tipped his head back, polished off the last of his beer, and tossed the bottle over his shoulder. Rather than breaking, it clanked and clattered against the stone, setting off faint echoes in the quarry.

Dean tossed the sandwich to one side, leaning back on his elbows as he regarded his friend. “So … what?” The last thing he ever expected was Lee’s hand darting out to catch hold of the cuff of his baggy jeans at his ankle and gave a hard tug, dragging Dean down along the hood and towards him. The blanket only made it that much easier; it was like one of those bumpy kid slides at the county fair. “Hey, what --! Whoa, what the hell -- Lee --!”

Dean’s body curled in and up by instinct, his other leg bending at the knee ever so slightly - not kicking out, but getting ready for it, if need be. Fingers still curled tight around his beer bottle, he eyed his friend where he stood. Lee had reeled him in close, Dean’s bent knees bracketing his hips. The core heat of their bodies had already begun mingling together, the sudden tension making the air around them feel heavier, somehow. Harder to breathe. 

Dean’s chest heaved as he met those pale blue eyes staring into his so fixedly. Searching for something. Despite the fact he’d downed a whole beer in about a minute, Lee’s eyes were remarkably clear and filled with certainty, powerful fists planted on either side of him on the hood.

“Lee, man, what’re you --”   
  
“Hey, look - I know I’m a rowdy sonofabitch, but I know when to take a hint, all right. I ain’t about to force nobody to do anything they don’t want. So if you’re not interested...” Lee spoke carefully, deliberately. His words trailed off, but his intentions were unmistakable. But then, so was the way his eyes roved over his body. Lingering, admiring.   
  
“You --” Dean’s eyebrows shot up at his words, but he didn’t budge an inch. Something about the way Lee was looking at him gave him pause. He knew that look - had thrown it many a pretty waitress’s way in his time. The banked hunger in those faded blue eyes sent a bolt of realization through him, mouth dropping open in a noiseless gasp.    
  
“What d’you say, cowboy?” Lee prompted, one brow arched. 

Dean regarded his friend for a long, wordless moment. “I … I never --” he stammered, soft and hesitant. His heartbeat was fluttering in his chest and at his throat and he found himself wondering if he hadn’t just given himself an actual goddamned concussion earlier.    
  
“Dean…” Lee’s voice was too damned steady as his hands slipped up to settle on Dean’s thighs, palms curled over his knees as his hands smoothed up. His fingers curled around the powerful muscles under his hands, digging in  _ just enough _ to make Dean’s breath catch in his chest. 

Pushing himself up, Dean then slouched closer, eyes never straying from his friend’s for an instant. 

“I-is this some kinda joke or -- or trick?” Dean was fumbling around in the dark but something deep down, some tiny voice, told him it was neither.    
  
Running into other hunters wasn’t exactly unusual, but encountering another hunter who was anything less than a self-professed 150% red-blooded heterosexual American male was like finding the key to Atlantis in the frozen food section at Walmart. Pretty fucking unlikely.   
  
“No tricks, tiger, I swear it,” Lee whispered, sounding winded, eyes gleaming like the moon. “You know me.”

Dean broke that link between the two of them, eyes darting away from his and off to the side. “Yeah. I do.”

Which was why what came next made too much sense to just ignore or try to play off as drunken horsing around. Dean’s heartbeat picked up, rapping against the inside of his ribcage as he leaned in, closing the distance between Lee and himself little by little. Trembling so hard under his skin, he felt like screaming. All the butterflies in his stomach had moved to his chest and now they were on fire. “Lee…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm evil. 
> 
> Yes, it'll be worth it. ;)
> 
> Lee's truck, Honey, is a '67 Chevy Silverado pick-up. Sky blue.


	3. Big Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start heating up after the big hunt.
> 
> Trembling so hard under his skin, he felt like screaming. All the butterflies in his stomach had moved to his chest and now they were on fire. “Lee…”

“Lee…” Dean gasped, breath hitching before and after his friend’s name tumbled out. 

“I’m here,” he said, and Dean could almost _feel_ his eyes, his warm, steady regard.

The growing tension between them left Dean’s mouth dry, like he’d gone and swallowed the entire prairie without realizing it. 

Teeth worrying on his bottom lip, Dean finally tore his gaze away from the ground and chanced a peek up at Lee from beneath his lashes. For a second, there, Lee looked like he’d been socked in the stomach, fingers uncurling where they clutched at him, splaying out against the still-warm hood as he leaned in the smallest fraction closer. 

Dean’s breath hitched as Lee nestled in closer, until they were pressed flush against each other from chest to hip. His face felt glowing hot as the sound of his own harsh, shaky breaths finally registered in his ears. 

“Lord have mercy, just look at you,” Lee murmured, more to himself than anything else. Like he was looking at something miraculous, like looking at Dean made his knees weak, but … that wasn’t right, was it?

Whatever Lee was looking at didn’t hold a candle to the view Dean had from where he sat. Lee was a few inches shorter than Dean, and burly, built more like an MMA fighter or a tank compared to Dean’s own slight, lean runner’s frame. They both had hints of baby fat still rounding their cheeks and adding softness to their striking features. 

Lee’s nose was smaller than Dean’s, with the slightest bump along the bridge, which gave him a sort of scrappy, tough-guy look that had caught Dean’s eye immediately. Just looking at his face, Dean could see he’d been in his fair share of fights, even at his age - but at the same time, something in him knew that Lee had also probably never _lost_ a single one of those fights.

Lee kept his brown hair close-cropped, then - even shorter than Dean cut his own - which made his cheekbones, full lips, and square jaw that much more pronounced. Dean remembered only too well the way John’s eyes had looked as he’d regarded Lee, that first time they’d met: the way John’d glowered at him. 

John had taken in Lee’s regulation haircut, clean-shaven face and utilitarian clothes, and had seemed satisfied with what he saw. Even if he wasn’t exactly _happy_ about it. Because nothing ever truly pleased John Winchester - especially anything to do with his eldest son. 

That haircut was probably a tiny, invisible ticky box -- one of those vague, ridiculous conditions that Lee had been required for him to meet, in order for him to be considered trustworthy in John Winchester’s eyes. Probably had something to do with discipline or commitment. 

Lee had been put through the full John Winchester treatment and passed with flying colors. And nobody’d seemed more shocked or happy to realize that than Lee, himself.

"All right, so it looks like you're havin' a moment. Which - hey, I'm a good-lookin’, irresistible sonofabitch. I understand," he said, his voice a gravelly purr, pale eyes twinkling with humor aimed solely at himself. "But maybe I can do some interpretatin'..."

"That's not a word --" Dean mumbled, his lips curling into a sweet, bashful smile as he lowered his eyes again. 

"'ey, now, you shhh! Not another peep outta you unless you're answering me, got it?" Lee’s words were gruff, but he was chuckling even as he spoke. 

Instead of replying, Dean drew his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it as he nodded, eyes still angled off to one side of him. 

Lee’s hands settled on his hips, grasping at the denim there, and he leaned to one side, far enough so that he put himself right within Dean’s eye line. Dean’s eyes met his, instinctively, and once their gazes locked together, his entire body reoriented, angling towards Lee, every last inch of his body listening. The smile Lee flashed at him, warm and so patient, made an answering warmth blossom in his stomach, like he’d downed a full glass of neat whiskey in one go. 

“Let’s start with somethin’ easy. Do you want me?” Lee asked, like it was something people just **asked** other people every day. Something easy. No stakes, one way or another.

“Y-ye -- I -- **yes** ,” Dean stammered, eyes widening a fraction as he met his stare. 

Lee’s posture shifted, tension easing from his shoulders, his smile broadening. “Same page as me, then,” he said. 

At those words, Dean drew back just slightly to get a better look at his face, that same question easy to read in his own expression - doubtful, wary.

_I-is this some kinda joke or -- or trick?_

“You think I’m foolin’, don’t you,” he said softly, his words an oddly soothing rumble, even though there was something about his voice that sounded almost sad, then, for some reason. And it wasn’t a question. They both knew it wasn’t. “Dean.” 

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the resulting friction between them enough to set off a brush fire all along every nerve in his body. His eyes squeezed shut, a shuddering breath tumbling from his parted lips when he felt something hard wedged against his right hip pocket.

Lee’s fingers tightened on the seams of denim over Dean’s hips, but beyond that, he didn’t let the temporary distraction drag his mind away from the important thing. The most important thing. “What do I gotta do, to prove to you that I’m not pulling your leg h--” he heard the words as they came out and he had to stop himself. 

Dean snorted.

“Smartass,” Lee groused, but any heat that might have been in the word was undermined by the way his eyes twinkled when Dean finally looked up to meet his gaze again. Without meaning to, his eyes were drawn to Dean’s lips, and you didn’t have to be a mind-reader to see where his brain was meandering off to. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Dean said, doing his best to school his face into at least a semi-serious expression. He reached up, fingertips catching lightly on the collar of Lee’s dark blue denim jacket. 

“Can I kiss y--”

“Yes!” Dean cut in with a shaky sigh, not even giving him long enough to answer the question properly. His fingers curled around a fistful of Lee’s jacket, not tugging, but just holding on tight. 

Even with his hasty answer, Lee didn’t move a muscle, not right away. Not to kiss him, nothing. He just held Dean’s gaze for what felt like a hundred heartbeats, but he didn’t trust his heart at that moment. Couldn’t possibly. 

Tongue sneaking out to wet his lips, Dean shivered. “ _Please_ \--”

Lee’s hands were the first movement Dean noticed, before anything else - the way his grip shifted, arms winding around his waist and pulling him in just a scant half an inch closer. Dean’s body lit up like a bonfire again, a moan working its way out of his throat, eyes falling closed at the intensity of the sensations swarming over his body as their cocks ground against each other. Dean drew his left foot up, the heel of his boot catching on Honey’s grille, bits of gravel ticking as his heel banged against it. Gritting his teeth, he hooked his leg over Lee’s hip, the closeness of their bodies making it almost impossible to do anything else. 

“You think I’m foolin’, now?” Lee asked, his voice a gravelly wreck, breath warm against his cheek. “Do you?”

“No.” He shook his head, another involuntary shudder coursing through him, his whole body turning feverishly warm in an instant.

“Dean,” he said, and he still sounded so damn patient, even though Dean could feel just how hard he was. A soft brush of the end of his nose against Dean’s cheek. “Hey, do me a favor ... let me see those pretty eyes.” 

It took the concerted work of a few seconds and a couple deep, steadying breaths, but Dean finally managed to lift his chin and meet his eyes squarely. Lee stared into his eyes deeply, searching there, and apparently was content with what he found; the tension around his eyes melted away, the concern there being replaced with a slow, warm smile. 

“C’mere,” he rumbled, lips brushing the corner of Dean’s mouth even as he spoke, wringing a soft moan from Dean. Lee captured Dean’s upper lip between both of his, drawing on it gently for just a brief tease before turning his attention to his bottom lip, grazing there with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. 

Dean curled the fingers of both hands into Lee’s jacket, tugging him in and keeping him close as the kiss deepened, hands traveling up to cradle his face in both hands, his low moan muffled against Lee’s lips. Their heads tipped just so, mouths slotting together, the two of them moving like they’d been kissing each other for years.

As it was, Dean felt he was hanging on by a thread, but that wasn’t exactly metaphorical, by that point - when Lee had pulled him in closer, he’d all but tugged him off of the hood of the truck, leaving his ass barely resting on the edge. He felt himself slip another half a centimeter and let out a pitiful-sounding whine as he broke the kiss. “Fuck! Sorry, we gotta -- I can’t -- I’m slipping,” he said, his own voice sounding husky to his ears. 

“Shit, hang on,” Lee said, taking half a step back, hands slipping down to his hips again. “Okay, c’mon down.”

Dean let himself hop off the edge of the hood, biting his bottom lip as his thigh brushed against Lee’s, the denim-on-denim noise sounding almost obscenely loud in that moment. Once he was steady on his own two feet, he leaned back against the truck, fingers catching hold of the front of Lee’s shirt, giving it a little tug. 

“So… wanna have some fun?” Dean asked with a soft, impish smile, sounding far more confident in the moment than he actually felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell you guys how sorry I am for the delay on this one. I've had some serious health issues come up for me in the last few months and it's really done a number on my head, so I'm only just now starting to get back into my fic again after way too long away. Very sorry for the long wait. More on the way, as I'm able!


End file.
